


Cybertronian Trials

by GemmaRose



Series: Kinktober 2019 [14]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Captivity, Dirty Talk, Dubious Science, Extremely Dubious Consent, Humiliation, Immobility, M/M, Overstimulation, Rape/Non-con Elements, Spitroasting, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Weakness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-03 00:42:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21170576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GemmaRose/pseuds/GemmaRose
Summary: Megatron knew Starscream and Skyfire were keeping more mechs than just him tied up in here to test their synthblends on. He didn't know one of them was Optimus.





	Cybertronian Trials

**Author's Note:**

> Starscream is from G1 and a whopping 5.5m, Skyfire and Megatron are IDW-sized (~15m and 11.5m, respectively) with Skyfire being SG, and Optimus is from Bayverse so he's 9¾m.
> 
> See end note for details on the non/dubcon if you want to be warned before reading

“Well, it looks like the initial stage of this one works perfectly fine.” Starscream’s voice carried easily through the room, and Megatron’s plating clamped down reflexively.

“Are we going to ask around for a mechanimal for the second stage, or move straight to Cybertronian trials?” Skyfire asked his conjunx, and Megatron shuddered. Starscream was, well, Starscream; he lacked the raw strength necessary to do any real damage without using weapons that would injure him beyond their use. The strange, dark Skyfire who followed him like a besotted shadow though. That mech was a real and present danger to Megatron’s safety, especially with the _grudge_ he seemed to hold, despite Megatron never having met this mech before he was dragged here in chains.

“Hmm, Cybertronian trials, I think.” Starscream purred, and Megatron heard one of the other test subjects’ fans kick on. “We can pause experimentation on Megatron’s blend until this one is fine-tuned.”

**Frag.**

Skyfire walked in front of Megatron’s cell, and Megatron growled his engine as threateningly as he could. He would bite, given half a chance. The poison they’d given him as fuel had sapped his strength so much the weight of his own armour kept him imprisoned more thoroughly than the flimsy, decorative cuffs and chains which bound his wrists and ankles, but his jaw could still deliver force enough to sever certain things.

“Should I get a cube in him to make him pliant?” Skyfire asked, and Megatron winced as sparks flew from his mangled vocaliser. The wires were simple enough to reconnect that _Skywarp_ had been able to do it, back when he was sneaking into the building most nights, but with his motors weakened so badly he couldn’t even lift a hand to do it himself, leaving him with only his field and engine to communicate.

“No, I don’t want anything to interfere with this test.” Starscream said, coming into view with a heavy iron chain in his hand. “Be a dear, Sky, and hook this to the ceiling of his pen?” he passed off the chain, and his wings fluttered with blatant appreciation as Skyfire walked up next to Megatron and hooked the chain through some contraption on the ceiling. He tugged on it, and the other end came into view, attached firmly to a heavy collar around the neck of a mech who Megatron would’ve recognised anywhere, even with his strange, fragmented armour and dispensary pink paint job. The windshield chestpiece was gone, traded out for some curved bits of armour with flames on them which Megatron guessed had once sat flat on his broad chest but now canted outwards to support full, heavy breasts.

“Get over here.” Skyfire snapped, and tugged on the chain again, making the strange Optimus stumble closer. Megatron realized this was the mech whose fans had kicked on earlier, and evidently hadn’t shut off as they buffeted him with hot air. Optimus let out a weak little moan as Skyfire dragged him behind Megatron, and Megatron hated how his valve clenched and lubricated at the sound. Optimus Prime shouldn’t sound weak, or helpless. Even in utter defeat he’d been stubborn to a fault. It was yet another thing to hate these blasted fliers for, stripping his nemesis of one of the things that made him so much fun to fight.

“Now, Oppy.” Starscream pitched his voice sickly sweet, and Megatron scowled at him. “Today you’ll be using-” a spike pressurised against Megatron’s aft, and Skyfire chuckled.

“Looks like he’s already figured it out.” Skyfire patted Optimus and moved back to his conjunx’s side, stooping to nuzzle Starscream’s helm briefly. “The processor formatting might be a little weak in this one.”

“This is why we run trials.” Starscream grinned up at Skyfire, and Megatron _burned_ as Optimus rutted against him with low grunts, hands groping at Megatron’s sides and finding seams made sensitive by Starscream’s so-called scientific tests. Optimus pulled back further on one thrust, and when he snapped his hips forward his spike dragged over Megatron’s valve rim and anterior node, making his frame jolt with a surge of charge so sharp it hurt. Optimus’s spike was ridged along the top, hard edges that all but literally sparked against his node and made his frame tramble. Frag, he’d not be able to resist for much longer, another effect of Starscream’s blasted poisons. Already his thighs were dampening with lubricant, an ache building deep in his valve to be filled, _claimed_, <strike>bred like the mechanimal he was</strike>.

Megatron shook his helm as much as he could and gritted his teeth, banishing that last processor thread. He was not a beast, was not a weakling, was not _helpless_. He was poisoned, inconvenienced, and when he recovered he would rend their helms from their frames for daring not only to subject him to this indignity but to watch it occur. Optimus thrust twice more before the tapered tip of his spike finally struck the inside of Megatron’s valve, and the surge of charge as Optimus sank into him nearly blew out the logic circuits in his processor.

“That’s a good mech.” Starscream purred, and Megatron realized the seeker had his own spike out and was stroking it gently. A processor thread distinctly not his own suggested he open his mouth and offer to suck it, and he killed it viciously. He did not pleasure his captors, not so long as his processor was his own. Starscream sauntered forward and cupped his chin, lifting it to better lock optics with him and smirk insufferably. “Just take it. Let him use you.” Starscream’s other hand went to the hammer of his alt mode where it jutted from Megatron’s pauldron. “Let him use you like you’re _meant_ to be used.”

Megatron bared his denta in a silent snarl, and Starscream chuckled. “Optimus.” he called, his tone light despite the wicked look on his face as he continued to hold Megatron’s gaze. “Overload for me.”

Optimus’s hips snapped hard against his, and Megatron’s vocaliser let out a shower of sparks as a moan was forced into it. The rush of charge into his valve, into his gestation tank, tripped something in his processor and he went limp in his armour, helm sitting heavy in Starscream’s hand. “That’s it.” Starscream stepped closer, spike bobbing right at Megatron’s face level, and his vocaliser sparked again as he tried to moan around it pressing into his mouth. The tip barely touched his intake, and Megatron held on to his lucidity as hard as he could, struggling to keep his rage alive as Optimus pounded into his valve with wild abandon and Starscream fragged his mouth with deep, lazy rolls of his hips.

“I like you _so_ much better like this.” Starscream moaned airily, grinding his hips against Megatron’s face. Megatron wished he could muster up the will to bite down, if only to end this indignity. Skyfire was still fragging _watching_, his dark frame just visible past Starscream’s hip, and Megatron almost wished the mech would join in, if only to make this disaster marginally less humiliating. Megatron’s engine purred a pleased note despite himself as Optimus’s spike ridges scrape along rarely-stimulated internal nodes, and the surge of his own overload was like a wave, making it all the harder to keep his thoughts his own, keep hold of the indignation and anger, the urge to _hurt_ Starscream for this, and Skyfire too.

Oh, the _faces_ the shuttle would make if it were him in these restraints and Megatron had his spike in Starscream’s valve. He cared so deeply for this stupid, shallow seeker and Megatron wanted nothing more than to use that against him, make him _suffer_ without any way to assuage the pain. He could offer himself up all he liked, Megatron wouldn’t accept. Not when it would be so much easier to simply _ruin_ Starscream and leave him. Break his hands so he couldn’t undo the cuffs, leave him lying there in agony crying for a mate who couldn’t help. Megatron jolted as Optimus’s spike sunk so deep it brushed his ceiling node, startled from his fantasy by the raw sensation of so much charge being pounded into his frame.

Frag, no, he wanted- he wanted- the thread kept slipping away from him, drifting out of reach on the ever-rising tide of charge that filled his processor. Optimus groped aimlessly at his sides, and Megatron wish desperately that he could move, even if only to rock back into those powerful thrusts, to guide those strong <strike>blue</strike> pink hands to his most sensitive seams. Sparks showered from his vocaliser with each powerful thrust of Optimus’s hips, a cascade of tiny starbursts of charge which exploded across his sensornet when they grounded, and he sucked gently on Starscream’s spike.

Starscream gasped, hips bucking harder against his face as claws dug fresh furrows into the top of his helm alongside so many older ones. “Ohhhh, there you are.” he laughed, and when Megatron’s optics fluttered open they slid over to the dark form at the edge of his visual field. Skyfire leaned against the wall, a datapad in his hands and panel firmly closed, and Megatron felt a flush of shame. Was he not attractive enough for the shuttle?

“Aww, Sky I think he wants you to join in.” Starscream laughed, cold and cruel.

“No thanks.” Skyfire scoffed, and Megatron would’ve flinched if he could. “You’re having enough fun for the both of us.”

“I am.” Starscream beamed, smug as anything, and snapped his hips hard against Megatron’s face to grind the tip of his spike down Megatron’s intake. “And isn’t that just _the worst_ for you?” he laughed, tilting Megatron’s helm to get a better angle. “We make you into a peerless fragtoy and you can’t even turn on one of your re-makers.”

Megatron tried to whine, his field turning pleading as Optimus plowed him through another overload, each thrust seeming to hit more nodes than the last, a crescendoing wave of pleasure that drowned anything else out of his processor.

“I don’t even like this look of yours that much.” Starscream said, and Megatron’s optics snapped to his. “Not one bit, you look so much _better_ in pink.”

Pink like Optimus, pink like his paint after processing the synthblends Starscream forced down his intake, pink like the lubricant gushing from his valve with every processor-scrambling thrust of the mech’s hips.

“Optimus, you can overload whenever you need to.” Skyfire said, and Optimus let out a sound that was nearly a roar as he slammed his hips in somehow even harder than before and spilled transfluid deep in Megatron’s valve, the flood of charge wiping all traces of coherent thought from his processor. It was too much, Optimus and Starscream and the transfluid being sucked into his greedy tank was all far too much, but he needed it. Needed more, needed to be fragged senseless and stuffed to the brim, pounded so good he couldn’t think until tomorrow.

“You like that, don’t you?” Starscream laughed, grinding deep again in Megatron’s mouth. “Like getting filled up like a good little fragtoy.”

Megatron tried to moan, and his glossa didn’t want to cooperate particularly much but he did his best to properly suck Starscream’s spike.

“You’re going to hate yourself when you come down from this.” Starscream cooed, caressing his chin. “You’ll be _mortified_. And you won’t even have a synthblend to blame it on.” Megatron squirmed as Starscream’s voice washed over him, or at least he tried to, with his motors so weak and armour so heavy all he managed was the most minute of shifts. “This is all you.” Starscream purred, claws dragging over Megatron’s derma. “All that posturing, all that bravado, and really what you need is to be chained up and fragged.” Optimus shifted his hands, and Megatron gasped as a thick finger sunk into one of his hips. “If you weren’t such a good test subject I’d dispensarize you for good. Leave you just enough of your processor to be mortified, just enough room left to hate yourself.”

Megatron shivered in his armour, valve clenching tight around Optimus’s spike and sending him catapulting into another overload as Optimus tipped over the edge again, splashing the depths of his valve with highly charged transfluid. It sat heavy in his tank now, another point of stimulation for his already overburdened processor, and he wished his vocaliser worked so he could moan. It felt so _good_, right in a way little had since his arrival here. His HUD was full of warnings about unsafe levels of charge and low level damage but he dismissed them all and sank into the sensation of Optimus ravaging him. Time seemed to stand still, only existing between laboured ventilations and attempted moans, and Megatron fell deeper and deeper into his lust, sinking into it readily as Optimus just kept providing.

“Aaand that should be all of it.” Skyfire said, dragging Megatron partially from his trembling, fragged-out stupor. “Optimus, stop.” he ordered, and Megatron wanted to cry out when that glorious spike stilled halfway into his valve. “Pull out and stand by the wall.”

Optimus whined, and Starscream pulled out of Megatron’s mouth to take his spike in hand and jerk himself to completion, splattering Megatron’s face with his transfluid. “You did good, Oppy.” Starscream smiled, and Megatron shivered. “You, were mediocre at best.” he scoffed, and Megatron’s engine whined as Starscream’s pede hit his arm.

“I’m not seeing any notable difference.” Skyfire said, handing the datapad over to Starscream, who simply shrugged.

“Then we check back in the morning and see if it’s set in by then.” Starscream smirked at him, sharp and cruel. “I know the mortification will have.”

Megatron’s valve cycled down on nothing as his engine whined, and both fliers laughed. “That’ll be a sight to see even if the synthblend isn’t transfluid-transmissible.”

“And hey, who knows, it may be transmissible but Optimus hadn’t made any with the proper compounds yet. Or it may only be transmissible orally.”

“Both true.” Skyfire nodded, and Megatron’s engine whined louder.

“Oh, shut up.” Starscream kicked him again, this time in the jaw. “You served your purpose, go stew in your own charge elsewhere. Oh wait, _you can’t_.”

“Let’s get Optimus back in his pen.” Skyfire suggested, and Megatron’s valve clenched down hard as the shuttle came to stand next to him to handle the heavy chain attached to the ceiling of his cell. “Then we can see about getting you a _proper_ overload.”

Starscream beamed, his wings fluttering happily, and Megatron showered sparks on the floor as he tried to whine for their attention. Skyfire ignored him completely, and Starscream rolled his optics as he shadowed his conjunx and a stumbling Optimus out of sight.

**Author's Note:**

> The interfacing in this fic takes place between Megatron, Optimus, and Starscream with Megatron in the middle. Megatron does not consent to this, and Optimus is in an altered state which renders him unable to give informed consent. Megatron enters an altered state partway through and in that altered state he reciprocates enthusiastically. Starscream and Skyfire orchestrate the entire encounter and are unbothered by it.


End file.
